


colour-code colour-code colour-code

by penrosequartz



Category: Bandom, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Character Death, Graphic Description, Gross, Lowercase, M/M, Painting, Sad Ending, Self-Esteem Issues, Soulmates, Soulpaint AU, Vomiting, throwing up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 12:50:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13435074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penrosequartz/pseuds/penrosequartz
Summary: josh dun sees a boy at a train station and takes a step closer to death.two steps.three.





	colour-code colour-code colour-code

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this when i was too tired for capital letters, so... sorry if that bothers you. :/  
> this is a very weird soulmate au i came up with! please enjoy and leave comments/kudos :)

the first time josh sees him, he's walking through a train station. well - not so much “walking” as “running like the fucking flash”, because if josh misses this train, he’ll miss his flight, and if he misses his flight, he'll miss his sister’s wedding, and if he misses his sister's wedding… she'll never let him live it down. and neither will their mother.

everybody is watching the boy with the bright red hair and piercings and tattoos run faster and faster through the crowd of people, shitty fake converse ($8.95) thudding on the tiles. his backpack is hurting his shoulders and he has a neck ache that would rival marie antoinette’s.

so yeah, everybody is watching this image of sweaty perfection (sarcasm).

everybody but… one. one boy is standing to the side of the quite-awkwardly-rapidly-dispersing group, wearing a long-sleeved sky-blue shirt with every button done up, and some ridiculous sunglasses (that this guy somehow seems to pull off). josh feels himself slow down. he’s sick to his stomach instantly, and he's going to throw up, shit,  _ shit-  _ the boy is studying a cracked tile, headphones in his ears, like there's nothing more fascinating in the entire world. Josh wonders what he's listening to.

the man's finger's twitch slightly.

_ “look up, look at me”  _ thrums through josh's body, and it's the only thing he wants in that moment. he needs to go over to that guy and shake his shoulders and get him to _look at him._ he doesn't care about his stomachache, or his painful backpack, or his sister's-

his sister's wedding.

josh turns away from the boy in the white-rimmed sunglasses as though he's being drawn to him like a magnet. like leaving is the most difficult thing he's ever done in his life.

it  _ is  _ the most difficult thing he's ever done in his life.

josh runs, and he gets on the right train, and his stomachache… it won't go away. at first josh thinks it’s stress, anxiety. then maybe something he ate. but later, when he’s throwing up in an airport bathroom, and it's  _ blue,  _ josh knows he's in deep trouble.

there's cobalt paint, smudgy, chalky, forcing its way up out of his throat, staining the white toilet bowl the colour of the sky. the colour of the guy's shirt. it should look nice, he supposes, but he knows that with this shade in his mouth, he’s a step closer to never seeing the actual sky again.

 

* * *

the next time, josh still hasn't told anybody. he needs to, his family and friends need to  _ know,  _ but what he can't let go of is “what if i’m wrong?”

he’ll know for sure, if he meets the boy once more. so, he hopes that he sees him soon, with his twitching fingers and long legs and buttoned-up shirt and funny sunglasses. he also hopes he never encounters the guy, ever again.

months went by. months.  _ months.  _ josh was starting to think that it had all been a mistake, a dream - and then he’s walking along the pavement and he glances up and  _ there _ . there, warped by the reflections in the glass, staring downwards (earphones in and head leaning on the bus window), sans sunnies, is the boy. the bus is rolling past. he looks… tired. defeated, deflated. and josh feels the spike in his stomach again but it's different this time, more sickening, bad, bad,  **_please_ ** _ look at me- _

it takes seconds only this time for josh to keel over, yellow spilling out of his mouth onto the concrete. the day is grey, the street bleak, the weather cool. the wind is biting. the mannequins in the storefront behind him give him pitying looks.

the yellow seems the only true colour in the world, tastes like oil and feels like it too. slick and fucking disgusting, and that's how josh feels, because if the boy doesn't see him now then he only has one more chance. red is his chance.

he doesn't want to make it to red. he can't bear this, can't beat this. this is the universe working against him. most people  _ don't _ make it to the third colour, but then again, most don't need to.

his soulmate not seeing him is a sign, clearly, a sign that means the josh is worthless to everybody - even the universe.

the bus is long gone.

 

* * *

number three feels better. kind of. his friends, family, they know what happened now and they all feel for him, they all understand - even though his soulmate is a guy, which is something he hasn't really begun to process yet. he's had bigger things on his mind.

and he feels prepared, now. to die. even though he’s only had two weeks.

josh wears a name tag on his t-shirt everywhere he goes, in case the boy sees him and is too far away to, y'know. tap him on the shoulder or whatever. is that even what you're supposed to do?

there's probably a website that tells you “proper soulmate etiquette”, but josh thinks that can get fucked, personally - if he's about to die, he's going to do whatever he goddamn likes.

anyway. the name tag is so his soulmate knows his name, obviously.

just in case.

the first week, parents and siblings and friends trailed after him everywhere he went. until josh snapped, that is - he couldn't be followed around like he had a security detail. if this was meant to be, then it was meant to be. and that was that. a personal security team couldn't defeat cosmically-organised death.

today, it's hot. the sun is beating down, and the white name tag with **“JOSH”** clearly printed on it is peeling off his blue t-shirt. josh is on a grocery run - the people he shares an apartment with are dicks, but he doesn't want them to starve.

and he's loading the plastic bags from the trolley into the boot of his sweltering car, and he slides the trolley into a trolley collection point or whatever the fuck they're called, and he shuts the boot and gets in the driver’s seat. 

and a little way in front of him is a boy with short brown hair, wearing a black t-shirt and jeans (jeans! in this weather). the guy in question is standing with his back to josh, but it's unmistakably  _ him. _

he’s beautiful.

josh tries not to think about what that means.

he has literally nothing to lose as he feels the sickness begin to swell in his stomach, and it's painful, like there's pins and needles all over his body.

he slams open the door and  _ runs. _

 

* * *

__

there’s red paint on the sides of josh’s mouth. there's crimson on his shoes and his hands and his cheeks. under his nails.

the boy got into a car, and drove away.

josh manages to get his phone out of his back pocket but paint smudges across the screen, and he can't get it unlocked, and it glitches out. red that's turning brown bubbles up his throat and he feels his world begin to sway, going black, going blurry, until he falls onto the hot black road. the paint starts to sizzle in the heat.

 

* * *

eight hundred metres away, tyler joseph swings a u-turn and tries to find the source of his nausea by retracing his steps. he pulls back into the car park, jumps out of his seat. climbs onto his bonnet.

he sees a colourful form lying between two cars, and somebody is rushing towards the body sprawled on the ground. now he’s rushing, too, and he's pitching forward as he shoves a hand over his mouth, bright red paint leaking through and around his fingers. 

he crouches, and turns the body over.

**“JOSH”**

tyler takes his hand away from his mouth and looks down at it. the red dripping from his palm is struck through with brown and goes faded, greyer, grey-

everything is grey.

josh’s eyes, still open, grey.

the pained look of the bystander, who tells him the ambulance are on their way, grey.

the ambulance, when it gets there far too late, grey.

tyler joseph will never see colour again.

he washes the paint off and empties his stomach into his sink. no acrylic in his mouth this time.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you liked it y'all. comments/kudos greatly appreciated. prq out


End file.
